Six Impossible Things
by Nellie87
Summary: Alice might be gone, but the Hatter can't stop thinking about the six impossible things he wishes he'd believed in enough to make them come true.


He didn't necessarily think them before breakfast. In fact the large majority came unbidden, jumbled amongst the things starting with A and B and the endless tea-times, skirting the sharp edge of sanity and the pain that could be found there. But though unbidden those six impossible things kept coming back, easy to list, impossible to forget, the very fantasies that plagued his nightmares.

1.

Whether they believed she was the real Alice or not, all the denizens of Underland felt the jolt in their hearts and the catch in their breath when she came near. At least, he thought so. Told himself so. Surely he wasn't the only one who looked into her brown eyes and saw the heart and soul of their realm.

His heart was beating like a feral drum now as she approached, dressed in tatters but still more a queen than any who would ever wear a crown. Jealous anger rose and waned at the grinning cat who was her escort, quickly replaced by the rushing tide of glee. He stepped on the table, careless of the delicate china that rested there, moving quickly until he looked straight down into those brown eyes.

But before he could speak, before the chastising words could even form, the confused wrinkle left her brow and she smiled.

(Surely all of Underland breathed easier in that moment?)

She reached out her tiny metamorphosed hand and said, "I remember you."

12.

She leaned against the balcony, hair a platinum halo in the moonlight. It was all he could do to choke back tears that caught like a bone in his throat as he realized he could never fashion a hat that would do her justice.

Unless...

"Might I touch your hair?"

She jerked up, eyes wide. Perhaps she had forgotten he was there, they had stood so long in silence.

She took one step toward him, then another. "I suppose so."

The words were nonchalant, the acceptance they conveyed exhilarating.

She leaned down again and he reached out, skimming his fingertips over the soft strands. Taking stock of his raw material, the most precious he would ever handle.

The tension in her shoulders drained away as he worked. The observation pleased him, almost as much as the smell of her hair and the feel of it under his hands did.

It felt like an eternity that he worked. He didn't mind. As in all his work, nothing less than perfection would be acceptable. Finally he tucked the last strands into place and turned Alice with a gentle hand on her shoulder.

Focused keenly on her face so as not to miss a single nuance of her reaction, he drew a mirror from inside his coat and presented it with a flourish.

Her expression betrayed nothing as she touched the elaborate coiffure, slid her fingers over the two feathers from his own hat that were the only embellishment she needed... and even then only because he couldn't bear not to place some mark of his own.

Her eyes softened as soon as they lifted from the mirror and met his. "This is beautiful."

"Yes," he said, very seriously. "You are."

9.

Alice took his face in her hands and the world stopped. For the millionth time he lamented her distinct refusal to ever be the right size at the right time. If she were the right size she would be standing close to him now, chest to chest, instead of leaning over with her body distant.

_If_ she were the right size it would be so painlessly easy to tilt his head down, just a little, and meet her lips with his own.

He frowned. Surely he was truly mad to be thinking of such things when the rescue of the vorpal sword and Alice's safe escape should be the only things on his mind. Nevertheless he let the moment hang, unwilling to let go, hoping she wouldn't either.

To buggery with it. Right size or not he was going to kiss her, he knew it, if she didn't turn away right that instant and—

Soft like a rocking-horsefly's wings her lips touched his face, just on the corner of his mouth. They lingered a moment, not quite an invitation, not enough for him to demand the kind of kiss _he_ wanted.

But it was a promise that had him grinning like the Cat for a long time after she left.

3.

Frabjous Eve. He paces the pale white hall for an hour, worrying at the tail of his hat with nails long since chewed to the quick, but finally he knocks on the bedroom door instead of walking away.

5.

Tarrant was singularly convinced that there was no creature more stunning than Alice was when she stepped out onto that checkered battlefield. The muchness literally shone from her, the light in the dark they'd been waiting so long for. Oh, she was scared... he saw it, felt it _for_ her.

He started at the sudden touch to his elbow, surprise that became a scowl when he saw the White Queen. No matter what the oracle said, she could have allowed him to face the Jabberwock. Allowed _any_ of them to do it, rather than Alice. As beautiful as she was, as sure of her as he was, it boiled his blood that he had been refused the chance to be _her_ champion and take this trial in her stead. Refused the chance to show her how much he cared.

The Queen did not remove her hand. "You love her."

A pause. Then, a single, sharp nod. He didn't trust his voice, didn't trust that he wouldn't lash out at her.

"I'll tell you a secret Alice told me. But only if you promise not to tattle."

Another nod.

Mirana patted his elbow gently. "She loves you too."

The cry of the Jabberwock filled the air. And without hesitation, without a second thought, he raised his sword and prepared to join the fray.

Now more than ever, he knew it was worth every wound and more.

0.

Every year the anniversary of the Frabjous Day gave Underland more of an excuse for frivolity and joviality than it usually had, and this particular one was no exception. There would be the banquet with the Queen and of course the local festivities, which Alice refused to miss even if it did mean they were a little late in joining the royal party.

The Hatter grinned at his reflection in the mirror. Straightened his cravat, then his hat, then his cravat again. His shoelace suddenly seemed too unruly, so he straightened that again too.

"Tarrant?" Alice poked her head into the dressing room, gaily festooned as it was with a creation he was particularly proud of. "We're going to be late, you know."

"It's never, ever bothered you in the past, and I'm sure the Rabbit would be happy to confirm the truth of that," he said, winking at her. "Go on now. I'll follow along soon, I promise."

She gave him an affectionately dubious look before departing. He waited until several minutes had passed since he heard the front door of the cottage close, then fished in the bottom drawer of the wardrobe for the item he had so carefully secreted weeks before.

Ring box settled neatly in his inner pocket, he left the cottage with a skip.

Yes, everything had to be perfect today. Absolutely perfect.

He couldn't wait to see her face.


End file.
